


The Hand of God

by CyanideRadiance



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Mutants, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypse, Character Death, F/M, Is this dark?, Mutants, or i guess hopeful ending?, yeah a little dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21556336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyanideRadiance/pseuds/CyanideRadiance
Summary: She went by many names, but none of them were her own. She had done so many things in the name of the Dragon King. But everything changed when she gazed upon the Dragon Prince. Now, the future— both hers and the world’s—was painfully unclear. And where exactly did the Renegade named Callum fit into it all? Only time will tell.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	The Hand of God

**Author's Note:**

> Apocalypse AU heavily inspired by the events of XMen: Days of Apocalypse storyline. This is a bit darker than I usually write, but cheers.

_ Monster. _

Her whole life, she was told she was an abomination. The markings across her skin, the pointed ears, and the horns upon her head. The four fingers and toes. Her snowy hair and pale eyes.

_ Abomination. _

And if it wasn’t for her looks, then it was the things she could do. The lies she told that would become someone’s reality.

_ Freak _ .

It wasn’t long before she ran to find a haven. A place where she was embraced and not shunned. There were so many other like her. All hidden beneath the ground where none could judge. She could blossom into something more than the death the world had promised her.

_ Beast _ .

But then the humans found them. And her world was thrown into chaos once more. They were forced to face the sting of the light, laid bare for the word to gape at. To judge. To kill.

_ Mutant _ .

But then everything changed.

An ancient tomb for royalty collapsed. From the remains, a forgotten god gaze upon humanity and found it wanting.

The Dragon King arose from the depths of his resting place. The earth trembled with thunder, and lightening marred the sky. The heavens cried fire, and the hells raged blizzards.

She was grossly misguided, fueled by a blind hate and a devouring hurt interwoven into her soul. When he came to her with words of honey and touches of silk, she was helpless to turn away. His wish was her will. Her hands became stained an array of bloody colors. Mutant and human alike.

She was many names.

The Dragon’s Retribution, first Hymn of the Dragonsblood, Liar’s Paragon, Weaver of Reality, High Priestess of Moonshadow, Midnight’s Divine,  _ Làmh dheas, _ Right Hand.

And so, on they went. 

The rest came to fear her almost as much as they did him.

Her only respite was in death.

This much she knew.

And embraced.

There was nothing she was afraid of. Not anymore. She had gone through hell and emerged from the fire unshackled. From the ashes of her chains, she built unbreakable weapons and armor. She may be a mutant, but that didn’t make her less.

Not anymore.

The lies of a new reality she was helping to build danced along her tongue. Slithered down her throat almost painfully. The Dragon King had long since taught her how to control the dangerous lilt but using it always made her heady. Dangerously drunk on an equally dangerous power trip.

There were so many rumors. Whispers against the nape of her neck. But she had no intention of betraying her king. He had shown her just how valuable her life was. And she had no interest in bringing his desires to fruition alone. The world was his to dictate. She was content to make it so.

Nothing more and nothing less.

It was supposed to be another routine cleansing. They had unearthed another rebel base west of the Xadian Fault. She headed the expedition, but the base was empty by the time her envoy reached it. She had everyone sweep through the area, yet it seemed like something else had violently cleared the people out. She hung back, as she was privy to do.

The air around her seemed to shimmer a bit, and her stomach dropped. An illusion? It had been so long since she’d encountered one of those. The closer she looked the more unease filled her stomach. It looked eerily similar to the very slight illusory oscillation of one of the other Generals she often worked with.

It couldn’t be Lujanne’s… Could it?

An infraction like this? To hide rebels was a death sentence. And she  _ knew  _ Lujanne. They had shared drinks and food and laughter. The betrayal stung. How could anyone take the gift bestowed upon them by the Eternal One and  _ spit  _ on it?

She swiped her hand across the air, dispelling the illusion easily. Lujanne’s power was all about a person’s perception. If one knew where to look, the image she imposed would fall apart at the seams. She wanted to cry out in frustration.

There was no doubt about it.

Lujanne was working with the rebels.

Her hands tightened on the hilt of her swords.

She spun around, searching for the people that were so masterfully hidden behind the Illusionist’s own brand of crafted falsities. She would paint the walls with their blood for the betrayer, and the rest of the world, to see.

Her entire world shifted on its axis once more as three pairs of eyes found her own. A calculating green, a weary blue, and more blue. But it was the last set that  _ really  _ got to her. Those weren’t human eyes. And she hesitated to label them as mutant.

She’d only seen slit eyes like that on one other being. And she’d heard the tales, of course. A prodigal lost son, dormant as his father. Dainty wings stretched forth from a small body, and a wave of pain overtook her.

The sins living underneath her skin and scuttling through her veins flashed before her. Layers of voices cried out against her. Begging to be spared. Begging for the pain to end. She had done atrocious things in a blind grapple for a world better than her own. And in many ways, she had succeeded. But doing so, helping herself, had destroyed the lives of others.

She had become the boogeyman around every corner she dodged before the Rise.

She had become the waking nightmare she’d lived before the Rise.

She had become all that she hated before the Rise.

She fell to her knees before the Dragon Prince. It was as though a veil had been peeled from her eyes. She lifted trembling hands to the confused round face. 

A new dawn was on the horizon, and the sun, the  _ son _ , rested in her palms.

What had she done?

_ What had she done _ ?

“Holy shit,” the older boy breathed. “That’s—”

“Yeah,” the other interrupted fearfully. “It is.”

She felt tears against her eyelids but refused to let them fall. “I can’t fix all that I have broken. The damage to this world at my hand is almost immeasurable. But tell me what I can do. Tell me how I can help.  _ Please _ ,” she implored of the child. But he stared back at her with that beautiful innocence. It hurt her to look at him. It just felt like thousands of others stared back, judging the wretched smatterings across her soul.

“You… You want to join the Renegades?” the older boy asked.

She snapped her eyes toward his. “Is that what the Dragon Prince would have me do?”

“Azymondias,” the other corrected. “Zym. He doesn’t like being called the Dragon Prince.”

“Can he not speak for himself?” she asked curiously.

“No. He’s not old enough yet.” The younger tapped his fingers against his forehead. “But people can speak to me without their words if they want.”

She looked at him closely. Then she turned to the other expectantly. He blew gently at her, and a breeze stirred her hair. So, both of them. In another lifetime, they would have been some of the lucky mutants. Able to pass for human.

“I want to help.” Her voice was strong. She had made her decision the moment she had seen another universe laid out in Azymondias’ eyes.

The boys exchanged looks, but the Dragon Prince stepped forward against their behest. The child wrapped small arms around her, slightly nuzzling into her suddenly too cold body.

And just like that, her fate no longer seemed set in stone. It was wonderfully malleable in ways she had never before contrived, and she would be a fool to let it slip between her fingers.

It took them a long time to trust her. Amaya, Opeli, Harrow, Runaan, Tinker, Janaii. Even Lujanne took some time to get used to the idea that she was no longer a pawn of the Dragon King. See, she was one of  _ them  _ turned rebel. But Lujanne had infiltrated the Xadian ranks easily with her skillset, a rebel from the beginning.

The only ones who ever really tried to help her were Callum, Ezran, and Ellis and Ava. They took her into their squadron easily, although many objected because of Azymondias’ preference to stay with them. The Katolis P Squadron was just as weary as the others, but they made their efforts.

She’d be a fool to blame them for their hesitance. If a rebel came to the Dragon King for a place, she’d never let them out of her sight either. The younger ones took her conversion in stride. It was Callum who was both the weariest and the most intrigued by her. It was the two of them that often did the classified missions, after all. They were some of the most skilled within the Renegades, a name the rebels had proudly reclaimed from the Dragon King’s propaganda.

Many of their outings ran as smooth as possible. He tried his best to talk to her, but she was so guarded. Building seemingly frivolous relationships, she had learned, was a guarantee of pain to come. And she wanted none of it.

But then they ran into the Dark Wing.

_ Claudia _ .

The two had been something of sisters. And memories of their voluntary sisterhood burst from her mind unbidden. It left sandy grains against her tongue and needles scraping her eyes. It was awful. Knowing they could not leave as they had arrived. One would have to die by the hand of the other.

She was reminded of the Dragon King’s caramel rumble as they stood over the First Carnage.

_ People must make their choice,  _ Dràgoin.  _ And the family we have so lovingly embraced will be the first to cry for our demise. Our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers, will softly whisper our name even as they reach inside our chest and crush our hearts. Their tears become our blood. Their words, our dying breaths… _

Claudia smiled sadly. “ _ làmh Dhè _ .” The words made her want to puke.  _ The Hand of God _ . That was she no longer. “We finally meet facing one another. No longer shoulder to shoulder, sword blessing victory upon sword.”

“The Magi of Dark Wing,” she responded, hands sweaty against her weapon hilts. Could she do this? Countless years of training kept her fear locked in an impenetrable corner of her mind. She’d deal with that later. “I like what you’ve done with the hair. Purple looks beautiful on you.”

She inclined her head, sifting the colored strands through her painted fingers. “I chose purple to mourn the loss of my sister. The color reminds me of her eyes,” she said lowly.

“Claud—”  _ Did it really have to be this way? _

“You know, I’m proud of you,” she interrupted.

“Oh?”

“You’re braver than any of the Dragonsguard. Soren, Viren, Aaravos, Fareeda, Rionna, Fen.  _ Me _ . We are the Dragon King’s. But  _ you _ are your own. I envy you for that.”

She wanted to reach out her hand, offer a way out for her friend. But there was warning in the Dark Wing’s eyes.  _ Don’t,  _ she seemed to beg.  _ Because then I might just say yes. _

“Claud, I can’t—” she began, but the Dark Wing attacked. Their battle was brief, and she knew her former friend was holding back. Neither wanted to do this, but they had no choice.

When it was clear who had been defeated, Claudia looked at her lovingly. “Do it,” she urged softly. “My dearest sister, neither one of us will be able to rest unless the other is gone.”

“ _ No _ . Claudia, I swear—”

“And it won’t be yo—" A sword peeked out from the Dark Wing’s chest as she gasped for air. Red stained her skin, and her hands wrapped around the protruding blade.

Callum stood behind their enemy, determination written across his face. Cold steel in his eyes. He was merciless, and she vaguely wondered if she’d looked every bit as frightening and inhuman as he did in that moment when she’d done the same.

He met her eyes. Unflinching. “It was you or her. And I would choose you any day. Let’s go report back to Runaan.”

News of the Magi of Dark Wing’s passing spread through the Renegades like wildfire once they completed their rendezvous. It seemed like the world around her was rejoicing. If it hadn’t been for her squadron and Azymondias’ senseless trust in her, the rebels would’ve celebrated her own demise with an even greater fervor.

The realization was sobering. She was utterly alone.

Hurriedly, she tried to retire to her quarters where she could wallow and sort through her emotions without the too perceptive eyes of others. But Callum latched onto her arm before she could make her getaway. She glanced down at the burning calloused fingers, his warmer skin making her own look like pale moonlight.

"I... I realized I don’t know your name." She looked at him blankly, and he tried once more. "Can I have your name? I don't exactly want to call you the first Hymn of the Dragonsblood, Mother of Deceit, or Midnight's Divine. Especially after all this time we’ve been working together. I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask sooner."

It took her a moment to register his words. And when she did, dread filled her. What  _ was _ her name? She wasn't sure. For so long, she had been the Dragon King’s. But that wasn’t her anymore. She was someone else. She was her own. It was liberating and horrifying. She looked at him in a panic.  _ I don’t know who I am anymore _ , she wanted to tell him. The words were waiting to be spilled forth, but she decided against it.

She thought back, before the Dragon King’s time. Back to her roots, to the young girl that longed for nothing more than the world to look beyond her appearance, beyond their preconceived misconceptions, and beyond genetics that she could not control. She sifted through the bittersweet memories of another lifetime that almost wasn’t her own.

“Rayla,” she finally whispered, unable to meet his gentle gaze. “My name is Rayla.”

“Well…” He offered her a dazzling smile; one she’d never seen on him before. It made him look younger. Softer. She could see the lingering traces of the brilliant man he would’ve been in a different timeline. In a kinder one.

But she had aided in destroying that possibility.

She opened her mouth, but she had no idea what to say. He saved her from further embarrassment, though.

“Welcome home, Rayla.”

His words held an infinity of implications, and the surge of feelings in her chest were impossible to label. He was trying to tell her so many things, and she barely gleaned any. But even then, she knew she would hold those words dear to her heart. For so long, she had hungered for someone to say those words to her and mean them.

And for the first time, she felt it.  _ Believed  _ it.

She  _ was _ home.

And she would do anything to protect it.

Soon, it became  _ Rayla this  _ and  _ Rayla that _ . Every chance he got, Callum was saying her name. The rest of the team used it often enough, but he was on his own level. There was a part at her that got thrilled every time one of them called her as such. It wasn’t dehumanizing like her other titles. And every time it was used, she felt like a piece of her was being reclaimed.

And then.

It was supposed to be another surveillance mission. Simple stealth, in and out sort of thing. But they had somehow become compromised. Everything had happened a little too fast, and they needed to get out even faster. Callum’s leg had gotten stuck in some sort of bear trap, and he couldn’t help the pained yell that slipped. It alerted their enemies to their presence. They had to go, and they had to go  _ now _ .

She pried open the trap with her swords, grunting and trying her best to not panic. He groaned as he fell forward, clutching the skin above the bloodied wound. “We have to go. I know it hurts, but we have to  _ go _ .”

He struggled to his feet, and she desperately wracked her brain for something to do. They went out here alone. The nearest safe place was a good walk away. She had to do something, and as she watched some of the enemy soldiers headed their way, an idea was beginning to form.

It was dangerous and stupid, but there weren’t any other options where they both had a  _ chance  _ at living.

She hauled Callum up and placed him behind some of the boulders littered around. “Stay here,” she warned lowly.

“Wait, no! Ray, don’t go!”

She froze, hoping he didn’t see the strange vulnerability on her face that she felt bubble within. Being called Rayla had made her feel more welcome. But  _ this _ ? When did they get to the point where he felt she was worth a nickname? There was an implied closeness that scared and warmed her.

She looked at him, and his own words echoed. “It’s you or me. And I’d choose you any day.”

He gave a pained look, reaching out for her wrist. He latched on tightly. “ _ Please _ . I can’t—You could die out there.”

“I could die at any time. I’ll be fine,” she promised. “I already signaled base, so someone should be here to get you soon enough.”

“We go home together or not at all,” he snarled at her, trying to keep her with him.

“Then I guess we aren’t going home,” she said softly. She pried his fingers off her skin, missing the comfort of them as soon as they were gone. “Just… Be safe.”

And she left him there.

As it turned out, the Tongue of Swords had captured her. He was conflicted over whether or not to give her over to the Dragon King. Soren, after all, was like a brother to her. And being in charge of her fate like that, especially after the passing of his sister, Claudia, was frazzling him.

When Soren was gone, which was often, his subordinates were fond of mistreating her in search of answers. The Tongue had problems stomaching torture for the sake of information when it was Rayla, despite how valuable the information she held was. Her captors also feared the power of her voice, of course. But there was nothing a simple voice changer couldn’t fix.

Eventually, she began to lose hope. The rebels had to have forgotten her. Even Callum, for all his words, had left her to rot. She understood, of course. They couldn’t very well spend resources on a lost cause. But the revelation still hurt.

What seemed like eons later, her torturers had put something into her food, but she too physically weak to fight them off. Whatever they had given her brought forth the strangest of dreams. The world tremored. People were screaming. And phantoms ran across her vision.

Someone came into her cell, shaking her vigorously. Heavy lids did their best to stay open. “C-Callum?” she breathed. But that wasn’t possible.

“Rayla? Rayla! Stay with me. I swear, I’m going to kill you when you wake up.” Skin across her face. Droplets on her lips.

When she finally came to, the first thing she noticed was Callum. Then came the ambient noises and the wires hooked up to her. He jerked up, needlessly messing around with her body all the while muttering, “You’re alive. You’re okay,” but she knew it was more for him than her. With a shake of her head, he halted. His hand pushed into her forearm and green was constantly flitting across her face. Like he was trying to convince himself she was real.

“What happened to Soren?” she croaked, and his lips fell into a flat line.

“The Tongue and his fortress are gone.” She shut her eyes and moved her head to the side in pain. Yes, they were the enemy. But, in some ways, they were still the closest thing she’d had to a family before the rebels. First Claudia, now Soren? The Dragon King’s world was crueler than the one before it. “I’m sorry, but we had to make sure they wouldn’t try to come after you again. You belong here with us. With  _ me _ , Rayla.”

_ Belong _ was a scary word, but it nearly had her crying. She shifted further, trying to bury her face into the pillow. “Callum…” She wanted to be honest with him, but she was scared.  _ Here goes nothing. _ “I’m so sorry. I doubted the rebels. I doubted  _ you _ .” He squeezed her arm, encouraging her to go on. “I thought you guys had left me behind.”

“Believe me, if there were just a  _ chance  _ you were there, I wouldn’t give up on you.”

“I’m so sorry for not believing in you. For not believing all of you.”

“You don’t have to apologize. This is a world that rewards those that are selfish. And I can’t blame you given what you’ve seen.”

She swallowed thickly, finally looking up at him. “And what I’ve done.”

“We’ve all done awful things. We have to learn how to live with them and ourselves.”

There was no judgement, just sad resolution.

He knew who she was. Heard the stories of what she’d done. Watched her do things, monstrous things, in the name of an ideology. And he was still trying to make excuses for her? “I don’t think you understand.”

“No, I do. Or at least some of it. I understand what it’s like to take a life, innocent or not. It’s a sacrifice we make so others don’t have to.”

“I don’t know if I really believe that. What if I’m lying to myself? What if this is all just an excuse for me to keep killing because I’m already so fucked up in the head?”

“You can’t change your past, Rayla. It’s a part of you, but it doesn’t have to define you. You have the privilege of shaping your now.”

She pressed her lips together almost painfully. “And if my hands are too dirty? What then?”

“Then you take those markings, and you make them your own.”

“It’s alright now. You’re not alone… You’re home, Ray.” He ran a hand through her hair hesitantly. The sweetness and hesitance in the gesture made her heart pound. There was a strange glint in his eyes. A ghost of a smile. He leaned down, pressing his forehead into the side of her head. He murmured something into her hair, but it was lost on her. She couldn’t fight the overwhelming need to sleep.

She recovered, slowly but surely. Callum was always at her side. Ezran, Ellis, Ava, and Zym were constantly checking up on her, too. They all helped her, even though she knew her rehabilitation pained them to see. Relearning to walk and be the fearsome assassin before her captivity was difficult. Every pained noise she made looked like it physically hurt Callum.

“What’s wrong?” she sighed after a particularly grueling session. She had fallen and refused to get to her feet, gasping for a while on the floor before sitting up. “You keep giving me these looks. Spit it out.”

“We…  _ I _ could have lost you.”

“But you didn’t,” she reminded him. “It’s fine. I’m still here.” She slapped her bruised legs for emphasis, but he winced at the noise.

“No, you don’t get it, Ray. The world as we know it is literally ending, and the only thing I think about—I  _ care  _ about—” He clenched his jaw several moments, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Look, we’re in the middle of the apocalypse, and all that matters to me is your survival.”

She looked at him in shock, heat creeping up his neck. “Cal,” she began.

But he plowed on, “And every time I look at you, I see traces of where I failed you. If you’d died back there, what would I be left to do? What would I  _ do _ , Ray?” She opened her mouth, but he was relentless. “It’s fucked up, but that’s the truth. And I won’t apologize for it. I refuse to. I have had  _ everything  _ taken away from me. And I’ll be damned if I let this hellhole take you, too.”

She met his eyes, adrenaline making her braver. “Callum, I would die for you,” she declared, and he was taken aback. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. She rose up on shaky knees, closing the distance between them. She nodded slowly, staring at his throat all the while. She pressed her lips into his cheek and withdrew quickly. “And that’s that.”

For a while, she thought all their physical contact was an accident. Brushed hands here. Knees there. A brief connection of shoulders.

But then the touches began to linger. Fingers got tangled and neither were privy to do anything about it. No one really commented about it, but there were small expressions. Flicks of people’s gazes. It all came crashing down during one of their late night sparring sessions.

They refused to hold back, limbs flinging with a restless abandon. It had been a long week, both of them separated while doing some solo recon. It was strange to be apart for so long, and Rayla found herself wanting to latch onto him, suck up his warmth into her too cold skin. She thought briefly to his scarf that she had commandeered, unable to help the smirk forming. In her distraction, he managed to catch her up in a sweep, but her hands buried into his shirt, pulling him down with her. He had half the mind to twist them, taking the brunt of the fall for both. A hot puff of air shifted the loosened baby hairs her ponytail couldn’t contain.

Their chests heaved, just slightly brushing. They were drenched in sweat, sticky and heated. “Cal… Lum,” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from where he was gnawing his lip. He raised a hand to hers, thumb rubbing against the skin almost reverently.

“I’ve always wondered…” He muttered absently.

Her tongue snaked out, making contact with the pad of his thumb. He pressed down on the center of her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth slightly, biting on the bit that snuck into her mouth. She leaned in, and they collided clumsily. Her hands clutched at his body as his own were everywhere as if he couldn’t get enough. A squeeze on her hip. Nails against her back. Heat against her cheek. Across her neck agonizingly slow.

“Please,” she whispered against his lips. “Cal.” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, but she knew she wanted whatever he would give. And more. So much more.

“Ray,” he groaned against the drumming pulse of her neck. She collapsed onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck as his went around her waist. He began to draw idle patterns across her back. Chills scuttled down her spine and settled low within her belly.

“I guess… Welcome home,” she laughed breathlessly, trying to control her overheated body.

He pulled away slightly, kissing her nose. “Yes, welcome home, Rayla.”

They stayed like that for a while longer, speaking volumes in their hesitant contacts. Silent promises to be fulfilled awash in moonlight and blanketed by darkness.

She couldn’t wait.

There would be time to learn the intricate constellations across their skins.

But for now, there was work to be done. Rest to be had. The world needed saving, and they would do it, alongside learning how to save themselves and each other.

The moon would rise once more, and the sun would follow.

And, at the end of it all, there they would be.


End file.
